Tag Archives: repentance

Prayer for Our Day

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Lord of Power and Might,
Harness the Four Winds
To serve Your Plan,
And bless Your inheritance.

Prostrate before You,
The Church raises a mighty cry,
To pierce the heavens,
And touch Your Merciful Heart.

Though our sins poison the many waters,
And our idolatry empower the Enemy,
May the sack clothe and ashes of our repentance,
Be sweet incense.

May our prayer and penance,
Be a shield emblazoned
With Your Name,
O Mercy Divine.

Reign down upon the Fiend,
The punishment our crimes deserve,
Chain Hell’s fury,
As in humility and meekness,
We render You Praise.

Salvation is Your Name,
O, Jesus.
Glad hosannas encircle Your Throne,
And the Glory of God
Shows forth in Love.

Holy, Holy, Holy,
The Seraphim cry in adoration,
As Powers, Thrones and Dominions,
Principalities and Virtues,
Pour down the Blood of Christ,
On Adam’s sin and seed,
To banish the Long Night.

Our God reigns,
His Cross lights up the sky.
Witnesses of Past and Present shout for joy.
Cherubim return to Your Jerusalem of Gold,
Spreading their wings above your Mercy Seat .

Your Temple is Presence,
Welcoming “Men of Good Will”,
As Angels and Archangels
Secure the Children of God.
Amen.

©2014 Joann Nelander

Perfected Through the Cross

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1

I would like to offer You the perfect,
But all I have is me.
So, here I am,
Sorrowful, in all my misery.

In hope I approach You,
Through the gaping wound in Your Side,
Through which flowed Your Mercy,
Your Final Word.

Wash me, Son of God,
In that endless river,
Your Life poured out
Throughout Time.

I stand, I kneel,
Then prostrate
At Your Cross,
I wait to receive You.

You are taken down,
And placed in Mary’s arms,
It is in her arms,
I find You.

There with You,
I am held fast,
Giving and receiving,
The Love You have won for Me.

By Joann Nelander

Haunting Silence

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Time to name the monster
Who stirs at night.
Who lives within
To hide our sin.

Time to make room,
In memory’s caverns
Rather than banish
What simply won’t vanish.

You had a choice once
That gave birth to phantoms
Making you live your choice
Silencing not its voice.

The monster lives and grows
Curled and caved in your heart
When the Light goes out
It walks about.

Its countenance a disfigurement,
Frightful yet your own.
Its dwelling through the years
Fraught with reticence and tears.

Has it no right
No place of rest?
When the day is done,
No place in the sun.

Most monsters are but part
Of our fallen selves
Standing in the way
Of each new day.

The way out
Is also within.
Give the chimera a name.
Acknowledge its claim.

Give the silence life
For the living,
For what you kill,
Haunts you still.

Time to embrace
And wrap the past in Mercy.
Give it a womb,
Instead of a tomb.

©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved

Abiding All the While

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We await Your Second Coming, O, Lord,
But, in reality, You have never left us.
Your Body and Blood,
Upon the altar of Your Presence,
Witness to Your People, Your constancy.

Before Your dying upon the Cross,
You prepared a Body for Yourself in the Church,
Embracing those who would soon desert You,
Feeding the Apostles the very Flesh,
That would so soon be scourged.
Giving them as drink,
The very blood to be poured upon the ground,
Staining pillar and the coarse streets of the city,
Whose people had welcome and acclaimed You,
In Your wonders and power,
Only to decry your claim upon their hearts,
And flee to the side of worldly power and might.

Though You never left us,
How soon we forgot You,
You, Who cannot forget
Those You chose to be Your Body on Earth,
And were called to remember You
Upon at the Table of Your Presence
Transforming bread and wine,
To mend and enable a broken people,
To experience Salvation,
In the Divine Intimacy as friends.

Holy Presence,
Remain always in my heart,
That looking inward,
My stained garment may be purified in penitence,
Bleached white in Your Light,
And my eyes behold Your image as Promise,
Wooing me from world and worry.

May Your Second Coming find me with You
In this world or in the next,
As bride with her Bridegroom,
Your beloved beholding Her Love.

©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved

Awake O Dreamer, Blasphemer

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Man in his pride knows best.
So says the arrogant spirit
Because God made you
In His image,
You crack the door
Of your sciences,
For less than a peek,
And marvel at your prowess.
In awe, you assume
The accomplishment your own.

No thanks for eyes, ears,,
The touch, the smell,
The faculties of intellect
And will.

Mine, all it mine you say,
And set out in sinful disregard.
No honor to the Name,
Simple blasphemy your frame.

Wake up, O Dreamer
You revel in your ignorance,
While angels wait
To open your swollen,
Lustful eyes,
To your shame
And repentance.

O, Man,
Humbly gaze on Truth,
And purity’s delight.
Say but the word
That your soul may be healed.

©2012 Joann Nelander

P.S.

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A Man Clothed in Sin

A man clothed in sin
Walked the long aisle
To stand before the Crucifix.

Long years,
No tears,
He came to say,
“You died for me,
And I don’t give a damn!”

The hardened before the Hallowed,
The clock running down,
Time spent and unreflected,
Deeds done and unrepentant.

Challenged to say the words,
He began,
“You died for me,
And I don’t give…”

Undaunted, he repeated,
“You died for me
And I don’t…..”
Gaze focused
On that bloodied Corpse,
Resolute, again, he began.
“You died for me…”
…….
“You died for me…”
“You died for me!”

Tears, tears,
Rivers of tears,
Years unspent,
And now in flood.

Miracles at the Red Sea,
Yet, none greater
Than the Passover,
One innocent Lamb,
Slain, and yet standing,
Lifted up,
Drawing thee.

© 2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved

Inspired by another story :

MONDAY, 6 AUGUST 2007

Cardinal Lustiger RIP 1926-2007


I didn’t always agree with the former Archbishop of Paris, Cardinal Jean-Marie Lustiger, who died yesterday, but his tenure of that see brought a great deal more good than harm, I think. On his watch, the Catholic life of the city gained a huge boost; the new movements revitalized many parishes, and vocations to the priesthood soared. I remember that he habitually celebrated Mass in Notre Dame almost every Sunday evening for the young people who came to that Mass; a great example to the other bishops of France, many of whom are facing the priestly extinction of their dioceses.
I heard a story attributed to him—maybe it is one he told rather than a story about himself (since he himself was a Jewish convert). I was given to understand that the story is a true one.
Two boys were, out of mischief, determined to tease their parish priest, so they went to confession and made up outrageous sins, just to see what the priest would say. The priest, listening to the second boy, realizing that he was being ‘had’, and hurt by the mockery of the sacrament, asked the second lad as a ‘penance’ to go to the crucifix over the tabernacle and shout out loud, three times ‘you died for me, and I don’t give a damn’. The lad did as he was asked; by the third time he was in tears. Some years later, he was ordained a priest.
May Jean-Marie Lustiger rest in peace.